


(Un)deserved

by Blandings13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blandings13/pseuds/Blandings13
Summary: It's the summer holidays, and Remus visits James and Sirius at the Potters'.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	(Un)deserved

Remus looked up at a knock on his bedroom door. Sirius stood on the threshold, one hand cupped around the doorknob, the other holding a book. He was wearing a loose t-shirt over his habitual black jeans, which Remus knew was his version of at-home loungewear. Sirius’s gaze raked over Remus’s chosen ensemble of his oldest and most ragged t-shirt, and hovered uncertainly over his faded pyjama bottoms. Uncharacteristically for Sirius, he did not make a joke, but smiled winningly.

‘Where is everyone? Did they leave for the birthday dinner already?’, he asked, still holding the door open.

‘Yeah, James kept dragging his feet but Mrs. Potter hauled him out,’ Remus smiled. It did not take a genius to figure out why James would prefer spending time with his best friends over attending his great-aunt’s 100th birthday celebration.

Remus let his own book close, holding his place with a finger inserted between the pages. ‘Mr. Potter invited us to accompany them again but I assured him we wanted to stay in.’

Sirius nodded.

‘You want to…come in?’ Remus asked, doubtful.

Sirius opened the door fully and stepped in, smiling. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like that. I’ve got a book of my own, see? I swear you won’t even know I’m here.’ He held up a battered paperback, one of the mystery thrillers favoured by Mr. Potter, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

‘Good,’ Remus murmured. The roll of his eyes was almost audible.

Remus was lying on his stomach, his considerable length draped horizontally over the foot of the queen-sized bed. There was a pillow under his chest, his upper body was propped up on his elbows, legs bent at the knee, and his bare feet were waving in the air. The fingers of a slim hand brushed at the soft brown curls that were inching their way slowly down his forehead. His hair was getting floppy again, he thought irritably.

Sirius had not missed the eye-roll. He smirked and threw the other pillow on the bed as far away from Remus’s knees as he could. Sirius lay down on his back, parallel to Remus, and fanned his wet hair above him on the pillow. Even though he wasn’t as tall as Remus, his legs dangled over the side of the bed- about a foot way from Remus’s head. Letting his paperback fall on his stomach, Sirius crooked an elbow under his head. He met Remus’s suspicious eyes in the floor-length mirror and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

‘Why is your hair wet?’ Remus asked.

‘This Muggle magazine said it’s better if you let it ‘ _air-dry_ ’,’ shrugged Sirius, directing his attention towards the novel in his hands.

Remus did not respond, but his chest burgeoned with hope. He kept studying Sirius’s reflection for a long moment after Sirius had looked away. This was his own fault - Remus thought- and it wasn’t even a shock, really, that he was in love with his best friend.

Sirius Black- the handsome badass biker, the adolescent run-away, the dangerous rebel- was worried about his hair. This small act of self-care made Remus happy. Remus knew better than to smirk at what others perceived to be Sirius’s vanity. Remus knew that Sirius wasn’t vain. Sirius’s charm did not lie in an obsession with his looks but in his complete indifference to them. Sirius was ‘carelessly handsome’. Not that Remus blamed anyone for judging Sirius solely on his appearance- Merlin knew it was tantalising enough. The shoulder-length curtain of wavy dark hair, the high cheekbones, the aloof grey eyes, the square jawline, and the lithe, graceful body- either clad in dark robes or his favoured Muggle attire of a dark t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket- all added up to an extremely attractive package that had featured at least once in the daydreams of most Hogwarts students. But Remus saw more.

As Remus scratched absently at a scar on his lower back, he thought back to their fifth year. His chest still hurt at the memory of Sirius’s depression at its peak- it had been sudden and all-consuming.

Remus knew how difficult Sirius’s childhood had been. He had shared a dormitory with Sirius for the past six years, and he alone among the Marauders knew how bad it had gotten. His parent’s neglect, their constant disapproval, the unending pressure, and relentless expectation to be something that he was not- it was more than anyone could bear. Sirius had internalized all the emotional and physical pain for years. When he had finally allowed himself to feel it, it had nearly destroyed him. Some days it was a battle for Sirius to even bathe, to change into clean clothes that weren’t school robes, to wash his hair, to eat his dinner. This was why it meant so much to Remus to know that Sirius was air-drying his hair- whatever that was.

Making the depression worse was Sirius’s need for pretence. Sirius even hid his darker feelings from James. He thought of James as a brother, a brother he was afraid of disappointing. James understood Sirius’s need to pretend, and himself pretended to ignore the bouts of depression. James knew that Sirius would share with Remus. Every time James sensed Sirius’s sadness, he would direct a glance at Remus, a silent plea in his eyes. Remus would acknowledge the look, without needing the plea. Remus would always take care of Sirius- whether anyone else asked him to or not.

Remus himself wasn’t a stranger to depression. He knew, better than any other boy his age, what the pit felt like. The self-hatred, the regret, the loneliness, the _apathy-_ were all his constant childhood companions. Perhaps that was why Sirius was more open with Remus about his moods than the others.

This- Remus thought now, as he stared at the same spot on the page that he had been staring at for the past several minutes- was what he saw when he looked at Sirius, this was what he read in the carefully cultivated façade of indifference Sirius hid behind. The constant dichotomy that lived in those grey eyes, the two extremes Sirius constantly vacillated between- the lost child Sirius had been and the brave, kind boy he had made himself into.

Remus’s mind boggled at the kindness he knew Sirius was capable of. Sirius would shrug it off as a baseless accusation if Remus ever said this aloud, so Remus kept his peace. But Remus thought now, of all the times Sirius had borrowed James’s Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the hospital wing. He would miss lessons, miss sleep, miss meals, all to give Remus some company. He would sit beside Remus the entire night, hidden under the Cloak, not caring if Remus was awake or asleep, but always being _there_ when he woke up. Sometimes, Remus would delude himself into thinking that Sirius had held his hand throughout the night, or that he had heard Sirius’s deep velvet voice quieting him, soothing the fear evoked by a nightmare. Once he was sure he had heard the beloved voice reading out chapters from Remus’s favorite book while he slept- but that had surely been a dream. Remus held onto these delusions, they brought him immeasurable peace.

Remus also indistinctly remembered the countless painful nights when he did not know if he was man or wolf, but had sensed, hazily, the smell of Padfoot’s fur or the scent of Sirius’s hair.

The wolf somehow knew that Padfoot was…special. After Remus had discovered his true feelings for Sirius, he could somehow _sense_ Padfoot through the wolf’s thoughts. It was a unique feeling- one Remus did not understand completely during his transformations.

Once the wolf took over, Remus no longer had any coherent thoughts. He had, as a child, thought of the wolf as something…other, something different from himself, but as he grew up, this hypothesis had changed, evolved.

Remus and the wolf were one. It was not as if one ceased to exist when the other took over. No. It was more like Remus himself changed, became something stronger, something scarier- a savage monster incapable of rational thought. But after Remus had acknowledged his feelings for Sirius to himself, it was as though the monster, too, had changed. It had happened a year ago. His friends had told him when the wolf had become...softer, easier to control. Remus knew instinctively that this change was due to Sirius, or, more properly, it was Padfoot’s influence at work on the wolf, and had nothing to do with James or Peter.

Peter. Peter was a character in the book he was reading now. As his eyes refocused on the name printed toward the bottom of the page, Remus instantaneously came back to the present. He was a glutton for punishment. Why was he thinking about all this? It was the summer holidays, he would be at the Potters’ for the whole week, there was still a fortnight before the full moon, and most importantly, for the next three hours, he was alone in the house with Sirius. If he tried really hard, he could probably stop the morbid thoughts- think about something else for a while.

It wasn’t difficult to channel his thoughts onto a…healthier plane, when the subject of his reveries was so near. He shot a glance at Sirius in the mirror, and was surprised to see that he still seemed to be engrossed in his book. Must be spine-tingling prose, to hold Sirius’s attention for so long.

Still pretending to read his book, Remus turned a page. He kept his face hidden behind the book in his hands, not wanting Sirius to catch him in his mental rhapsodies. Remus closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly.

With the door closed, the smell of Sirius’s wet hair had permeated into every corner of the small room. Remus was immediately aware of how near him Sirius lay. Sirius’s smell was like a fog in his mind, a drug so addicting he did not want to be cured. With his senses swimming in his personal aphrodisiac, it was ridiculously easy to imagine that he was physically surrounded by Sirius as well.

Remus Lupin might have been a werewolf, but he was also a sixteen-year old boy. His blood heated instantly at the scenarios his hormone-fuelled brain conjured up. Sirius was everywhere, holding him, kissing him, touching him. Remus indulged himself, drowning in the fantasies for a few minutes, and then all too soon, his eyes snapped open at an unexpected sound. The real Sirius had cleared his throat. Remus quietly let out a breath that he had been unaware of holding. He was lucky it didn’t come out as a moan.

All things considered, Remus was grateful that he was on his stomach, grateful that his erection was pressing into the mattress under him and not protruding through his loose pyjama bottoms, grateful that Sirius couldn’t read anything suspicious in the sudden rigidity of his limbs.

He stole another glance at Sirius in the mirror, and what he saw made his brain freeze. His eyes latched onto the waistband of Sirius’s jeans. Sirius’s t-shirt had ridden up a little and a thin sliver of smooth skin was visible just above the waistband, but this was not what had caused the ringing in Remus’s ears.

Remus could see, along Sirius’s left inner thigh, the outline of Sirius’s own erection. Sirius must be wearing boxer briefs under those jeans, and the stiff denim had trapped the organ and forced it to elongate horizontally.

His throat dry, Remus tore his eyes away from the harbinger of his doom and tried to get a look at Sirius’s face in the mirror. Perhaps the book Sirius was reading had caused a visceral reaction- Remus’s shocked brain tried to reason.

The right side of Sirius’s face was visible behind his book, and unless Remus was greatly mistaken, one grey eye was fixed on Remus’s bum. Saliva pooled in Remus’s mouth and he swallowed it with an effort.

Remus’s mind went blank for another moment that may have encompassed an eternity. When his brain finally rebooted, he was still incapable of distinguishing individual thoughts. Remus shook his head slightly, and that seemed to help.

Sirius Black was staring at his buttocks and Sirius Black had an erection? Sirius was gay? Sirius was attracted to him? Remus’s eyes flitted continuously from the reflection of Sirius’s face to that of his own bum, trying to plot a trajectory. He remembered all the geometry his mother had taught him. The pillow under his front slightly elevated his bottom- in his mind’s eye he drew a straight line between the two points. Could he be mistaken?

His fevered brain presented another theory, and he shot a suspicious look at the upper frame of the mirror. His eyes narrowed, trying to discern and form words into the whorls of the old wood. Was this perhaps a Mirror of Erised?

While these thoughts were creating havoc in Remus’s brain, his nerveless fingers spasmed and he dropped his book. It fell on the floor near Sirius’s feet with a soft thud that echoed slightly in the silent room. Both Sirius and Remus jumped, but neither actually moved. The shock was evident in Sirius’s eyes as they met Remus’s in the mirror. He also looked slightly guilty, as if he had caught himself thinking about something that wasn’t allowed.

‘Moony?’ Sirius whispered, his voice low and husky. ‘Are you all right? Did you fall asleep?’

‘I…’ Remus began, unsure what he was going to say. His whole life he had felt…evil. Wrong. Contaminated. Scarred.

Sirius, on the other hand, was…pure. Sensitive. Kind. Brave. Wonderful.

Remus did not think he deserved Sirius.

But did Sirius... _want_ him?

Remus’s face cracked into a smile, and Sirius tentatively smiled back, obviously confused.

‘Good dream?’ Sirius guessed.

‘The best,’ Remus said, still smiling. Undeserved or not, if Sirius Black wanted him, he was going to get him. Remus would make sure of it. Sirius would never be able to get rid of him.

After directing another covert look at Sirius’s groin, where the erection was still outlined, Remus moved slowly. He turned around to face Sirius on the bed but didn’t stop moving until he was very close. Sirius, still on his back, went completely still, his eyes quizzical.

Remus reached out a tentative hand to touch Sirius’s face. Sirius’s eyes widened in shock, then softened, and he instinctively leaned into the touch. Remus’s heart soared.

His face was an inch from Sirius’s, green eyes boring into grey. Remus’s slender fingers cupped Sirius’s cheek, and his thumb stroked Sirius’s face, tenderly tracing the shape of his bottom lip.

The eye contact ended as Remus’s attention focused completely on Sirius’s lips. They were softer than anything he had ever felt. Sirius’s lips drew slightly apart and Remus felt warm breath on his face. Sirius’s smell, his scent, surrounded him once more. Enveloped him, obliterated all else from his brain. Before he was conscious of anything else, his lips had touched Sirius’s.

The first contact was chaste, but a tremor passed through Sirius’s body. His eyes shuddered close. Sirius’s surrender seared itself into Remus’s brain. He would remember this moment all his life. He kissed the hollow of Sirius’s cheek, nose pressing in the still-damp hair. Remus closed his eyes. He wanted to feel. His lips searched for Sirius’s, and finding them, he felt.

Sirius’s taste punched into him; his tongue struggled to contain it, to comprehend it. Sirius tasted…raw. Potent. Heady. Remus stopped breathing. His tongue drew from Sirius’s lips and Remus had a sudden epiphany. This single joining of lips had justified his entire existence. The change into the wolf, each regret, every scar- had been worth it. If he was allowed to kiss Sirius like this, surely there was meaning to his existence, surely it was part of a grand scheme. Surely everything would be all right.

Sirius’s lips moved against his, and Sirius’s arms banded around him. Remus’s fingers curled into the silk of Sirius’s hair, holding his face closer. The fingers of his other hand had formed a fist into the back of Sirius’s t-shirt, anchoring him.

After a few minutes, or possibly an hour, they broke apart. When Sirius’s eyes fluttered open, he looked…replete.

Remus felt as though he was the sole survivor of a terrible storm. He was panting slightly, but as his eyes raked over Sirius’s swollen lips, he forgot to breathe again.

‘Moony,’ Sirius whispered throatily, and the muscles of Remus’s stomach clenched uncomfortably.

‘So, you really like me, then?’ Remus heard himself say, with a bravado he knew to be completely false.

Sirius actually flushed, eyes downcast, and Remus thought wildly that this must be what the authors of those Victorian romances meant when they wrote that the heroine was a ‘picture of maidenly modesty’.

Sirius blinked. When their eyes met again all trace of modesty was gone. The grey eyes had gone dark; they resembled storm clouds. ‘Kiss me again, you fool,’ he growled, and grabbing the front of Remus’s shirt, pulled him inexorably forward.

This kiss was brutally intense. Sirius’s hands slid under Remus’s shirt and pressed greedily at every inch of skin they could reach. Remus felt as though the questing fingers were burning him. His skin was on fire and he whimpered into Sirius’s mouth, confused. Sirius did not relent. His hands continued their exploration, branding Remus’s already scarred skin. Remus felt no pain, only pleasure, and a need for more. Sirius was touching him, Sirius wanted him, Sirius was kissing him. Remus’s hands had moved down to mould themselves against Sirius’s buttocks. By now, they were both upright on the bed on their knees. Remus’s hips were thrusting mindlessly against Sirius’s, their bodies pressed close.

They groped at each other, each the embodiment of the other’s fantasies.

Sirius bit and sucked the side of Remus’s neck with enough force to bruise. Remus moaned and tried to pull Sirius’s t-shirt over his head. Sirius paused in the destruction of Remus’s neck long enough to shed his t-shirt; there was a sudden tearing noise and Sirius was holding two separate halves of Remus’s shirt in his hands. Sirius threw them away quickly, but the sound of the rending cotton had snapped something in Remus. The green eyes glazed, shocked, and then they darkened dangerously as the wolf also rejoiced in the recognition of its mate.

Remus dived on top of Sirius, his body pressing Sirius deep into the soft mattress. Remus pressed his fingers into soft flesh, biting and sucking his way over the tight muscles of Sirius’s upper arms and tortuously working his way to Sirius’s chest. His mouth bruised Sirius’s neck and Sirius cried out. It was Sirius’s turn to moan and he nearly screamed at the violence of Remus’s hands and teeth. Sirius’s eyes closed and he twined the fingers of both hands through Remus’s curls, pressing his face close, desperate to feel everything Remus wanted him to feel. After sucking loudly at every inch of Sirius’s torso, Remus’s face stopped at the waistband of his jeans. Breathing slowly in an effort to regain control, Remus drew back and lightly touched the button of Sirius’s jeans, as if asking for permission. Sirius’s body was quivering, his hips thrust forward at Remus’s touch, his back bowing slightly. Stormy grey eyes snapped open at Remus’s hesitation and Sirius growled deep in his throat.

‘Keep going, Moony. Don’t stop. Please.’ he begged, and unsnapped the button.

This was all the encouragement Remus needed. He had no practical experience, but had read enough books to know what to do. Perhaps because of the wolf, the physical side of things was as easy for him as breathing. He relied on pure instinct, there was no space for shyness or restraint in his mind. This was Sirius. Sirius deserved all he could give. Sirius deserved everything.

Remus peeled the jeans and underpants off Sirius’s legs, his breathing ragged. His brain catalogued the creamy span of Sirius’s skin, the slender limbs taut with muscle but soft and supple as desert sand. Sirius raised himself off the mattress to help, and his freed erection waved temptingly close to Remus’s face. Staring at it reverently, Remus fought an internal war. His mouth pooled with saliva again and he ached to feel Sirius’s penis against his tongue. He wondered how it would taste.

Later, he promised himself, later. Neither Sirius nor him would last long enough to enjoy this now, and he wanted to take his time when he finally fulfilled that particular fantasy.

He broke Sirius’s hold on his arms to ease out of his own pants, and Sirius protested incoherently at the sudden loss of contact.

‘Please, Moony,’ he pleaded.

‘I’m here, Sirius,’ Remus soothed. His body returned to press against Sirius’s, and his eyes worshipped every inch of Sirius’s face. His breathing calmed and he gently stroked the hair out of Sirius’s eyes. The grey eyes were open, and stared deep into his soul, claiming it.

Remus kissed Sirius again, kissed him softly, deeply, absolutely. Still kissing, he wrapped a hand around Sirius and himself. His fingers weren’t long enough to contain both their erections, but Remus concentrated on the feel of Sirius’s penis. It felt like iron wrapped in silk. Sirius groaned and pressed his own hand around Remus. Both their bodies moved, hands stroking each other, tongues tangled, hips thrusting mindlessly.

Sirius’s eyes closed again, and Remus recaptured his lips as he felt the closeness of his own climax. Sirius moaned inside Remus’s mouth, and he felt the vibrations of that treasured voice deep inside his own chest. Sirius shook his head slightly, craving release. Remus let go off his lips and his free hand pulled Sirius’s head to the side, fingers knotting into the dark silk to expose the elegant curve of his neck. Remus suckled greedily, teeth pressing into the strong muscle that corded the side of Sirius’s neck. Sirius whimpered again, both his hands pressing vice-like into the soft curve of Remus’s buttocks.

‘Moony…Moony…Remus,’ he kept chanting, in time with each thrust of their joined hips.

Remus pressed his lips and tongue over every inch of Sirius that he could reach.

‘Let go, Sirius. It’s okay,’ Remus murmured softly against Sirius’s cheek, his free hand now cradling Sirius’s face.

There was another moan- louder and more drawn out than anything else that had escaped Sirius’s lips that evening. Sirius’s fingers dug into Remus’s back, holding on, as, bodies shuddering, they both let go. Remus’s hand still moved, mechanically drawing the last drop from them both as their bodies continued to quake.

Neither spoke as Remus’s hand finally stilled. Remus did not think he _could_ speak; his brain, his body, and his senses were still trying to absorb the events of the glorious past hour.

Their breathing quietened slowly. Remus placed his elbows on either side of Sirius’s head, supporting some of his own weight so that Sirius could breathe. He pressed a kiss at the corner of Sirius’s mouth as Sirius sighed deeply. The grey eyes were closed, but Sirius’s hands moved possessively down Remus’s sides, and his lips, still swollen, turned upward in a crooked smile. His arms draped around Remus’s back and he pressed Remus close to him. The grey eyes opened slowly. They were swimming with emotion, but Remus could not tell if it was elation or satisfaction- he hoped it was both. Sirius pulled Remus’s head to his shoulder and kissed his cheek, his breathing slow. Remus pressed his face into Sirius’s hair, breathing deep.

He was surrounded by Sirius’s scent. Sirius was holding him, had kissed him, had touched him. Remus Lupin was content, and the wolf grumbled sleepily in his chest.


End file.
